Castle Walls
by Alice Twerkland
Summary: Frozen AU. Alfred didn't remember the night everything went wrong, so of course he couldn't possibly understand why Matthew didn't open the door when he knocked anymore.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N._ I just saw Frozen, and I was thinking about Hetalia for a long time after it was over. So, this was born.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and Matthew jolted on his bed, the few flurries of snow he'd managed to conjure disappearing in the palm of his hand. "Who is it?" He called, closing his eyes and praying with all he had that it wasn't his little brother.

"It's just me." Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, pulling on his glove and jumping off the bed, hurrying to the door. He opened it a crack, though he regretted it when he caught sight of his mother's smiling face. There was no way he could retreat back to his bed now. "Are you ready?"

The young prince opened the door fully, and he saw his mother's eyes shift up a ways, glancing into the room beyond. Matthew cleared his throat and stepped further out into the hall, shutting the door behind him. There was never a time when his mother wasn't worrying about him, and he wasn't too enthusiastic to see her reaction if she noticed the icicles hanging from his ceiling. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's only for a few hours." His mother reassured him. "Your brother turned fourteen today. Your coming to dinner will mean so much to him."

Matthew felt a brief flash of regret, though he fought desperately to keep even that much down and away. Born with the powers of winter at his fingertips, Matthew froze nearly everything he touched. He could create cold winds and blizzards with little effort; sometimes, with no effort at all. As a result, he hid away, shutting himself off from his family.

He left his room as little as possible and checked the lock thirty times over in a day, sitting next to his window and watching the seasons roll by outside while his own personal winter was maintained year-round. The cold had little effect on him physically, but Matthew could feel it on the inside, always lurking beneath the surface of his skin.

When he was a child, Matthew used his power freely – though only in the presence of his parents and brother – without worrying about the consequences, didn't realize that the power he and his brother had ooed and awed over was deadly in its own way.

Matthew's mother always said that he was too warm and sociable a person to live his life behind closed doors. She spent many nights pleading with him from the outside, reassured him that despite the fact they'd had to close the gates, he didn't have to live as a prisoner inside his own home.

For a very long time, he didn't believe her; he still didn't. What he wanted out of life was of little importance when he couldn't even control his own power. No matter his intentions, Matthew was always going to hurt others, and that was something he couldn't take lightly, especially not after what had happened to Alfred.

"Will there be… people there?"

"Only a few of the servants, your father and I, and Alfred, of course." She said, reaching forward to place a reassuring hand on her eldest son's shoulder. Reacting on instinct, the young man flinched away, and the Queen backed off immediately, the skin around her sky-blue eyes crinkling as she forced a shaky smile to her face. "Come along, Matthew. Everyone is waiting on us."

Matthew nodded, walking alongside his mother but taking great care to leave a safe distance between them. The distance was killing him just as it was his family, for he remembered the happiness from before, when the gate was open and their palace wasn't akin to a prison meant to keep Matthew contained. Life was so simple then.

"So," his mother said eventually, the cheer in her voice almost too forced, "what did you do today?"

"I read a few books." Best not to mention that he accidentally froze one of them and ended up breaking off a few of the pages. "And I watched the ships arriving in the fjord."

They were right outside the dining hall, and the guards posted outside seemed surprised to find Matthew walking beside his mother, though they bowed to him no less and opened the doors for them to enter way before Matthew was ready.

Despite his best efforts, Matthew's gaze was drawn to Alfred first. His younger brother was sitting at the head of the table thanks to the occasion, swirling a finger around in his glass of water in a bored fashion, appearing about ready to fall asleep right then and there. Matthew almost smiled – at least Alfred hadn't changed much – but then he noticed the snow white tuft of hair on his sibling's head.

Alfred wasn't born with that cowlick despite their parents' claims that he had been, though the only ones who didn't know that were those outside the palace walls and Alfred himself. When they were young boys, Alfred barely seven years old, they were playing in a wonderland of snow and ice that Matthew had created in the ballroom when he accidentally struck his younger brother with his magic.

The accidental blow had turned that single piece of Alfred's hair white and sapped all heat and any signs of life from his body. Thanks to the magic of the trolls that resided in their kingdom, Alfred had lived through the night, though all memory of Matthew's powers had to be erased from his mind for the cure to work. Compared to what he could've lost that day, Matthew considered losing the closeness he and his brother once shared preferable to losing Alfred completely.

It was difficult, listening to Alfred knock on his door every day to ask if he wanted to come out and play, but it was all for the best. Matthew couldn't even look at his brother without thinking about that night, how he'd come so close to losing the one thing that he thought his powers couldn't touch.

Matthew took a deep breath and worried his gloved hands together nervously.

"Sheesh, Mom, what took you so – " Alfred jolted in his seat when he noticed their arrival, would've knocked over his glass if it weren't for their father's quick reflexes. "Oh, my God, Mattie!"

The young prince shared an amused glance with his mother before meeting his younger brother's astonished stare with a small smile. "Happy birthday, Al."

His brother was grinning from ear to ear, and while Matthew would've rather preferred to sit in the seat furthest from his brother's side, he couldn't bear the thought of disappointing Alfred anymore than he already had, especially on his birthday. It was because of Matthew that Alfred couldn't have a proper celebratory ball in the first place.

So, Matthew took the seat on Alfred's right, across from their father, while the Queen sat down beside her husband, flashing Matthew one last smile before devoting her attention to her youngest son. "Did we get you good, Al?"

"Did you ever!" Alfred exclaimed, still staring at Matthew, as if trying to make sure his brother didn't disappear again. "Best present by far. I can't believe you got the hermit to leave his cave."

"Very funny." Matthew said, absently reaching for his fork but thinking better of it at the last second, letting his hand fall uselessly back to his lap. It had been… what, nearly four or five years since he'd last eaten dinner with his family? Regrettably, he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. From the looks on his parents' faces, they fully expected him to be able to control his power, but Matthew wasn't sure if he could. He'd been practicing since the accident, but even with his gloves on, sometimes whatever he was holding froze over if he was anxious enough. "I could always head back if you insist on being a brat."

Realizing at the last second how inappropriate and cruel such a statement had been, Matthew stared down at his plate while Alfred flailed to make amends. "No! I'm sorry, that's not what I – "

"Boys." Their father said, though all Matthew heard was his name and his name only. "Just relax and be kind to one another. I think we all want to enjoy this night."

Both boys nodded, and Matthew was saved from saying anything more by the servants entering the room with their dinners. Matthew observed the assortment of offered foods, none too surprised that everything mostly consisted of meat and various sweets. Alfred had never been one for anything green or even remotely healthy. "So, Al," Matthew said, probably shocking everyone at the table or otherwise, "how does it feel to be fourteen?"

"Pretty awesome." Alfred replied, eyes darting back and forth between the forks on either side of his plate before making a grab for the appropriate one. He'd actually grabbed the salad fork, though because of the occasion, no one said a word. "I mean, do I feel the same as I did yesterday? Yeah. But get this, Mattie. I got to go outside today! Like, not the courtyard, but the actual town."

"Really?" Matthew said, though he'd known that already, had seen his brother from his window earlier in the day. It took him a moment to recognize the figure dashing around the streets below, though when he did, a feeling of loneliness had overcome him. While his isolation was a conscious choice, there wasn't a thing Matthew wouldn't give to be able to run around freely with his brother again. "How was that?"

"It was amazing!" It was almost frightening how skilled Alfred was at speaking with a mouth stuffed with food. Matthew understood him almost perfectly. "I ran into a group of kids, and they didn't even know who I was until my guards caught up with me. Then they got all weird and stuff. Oh, and I saw a reindeer, but whoever it was that owned it started yelling at me from across the street, so I left before I got into any trouble."

"Sounds like you had an interesting afternoon." Everyone was already eating, but Matthew was too busy trying to focus on grabbing his fork without freezing the metal over. His father had taken notice and was watching him carefully, a look of encouragement on his face as he nodded slightly to his son. Matthew bit his lip. "It's a pity you can't go out more often."

"Tell me about it." Alfred griped, slipping into their old familiarity almost too easily. Matthew threw caution to the wind and grabbed his fork, surprised and delighted when nothing happened. "I wish you'd been there. Imagine the looks on those kids' faces if they'd met the future King of Arendelle! It would've been hysterical."

The concept may have been a little amusing, and while Matthew had always known that the citizens loved him just as much as they did Alfred and their parents, he often wondered what they would think if they knew about his power. "I just… like it better indoors." Matthew said, chewing a scalloped potato carefully as Alfred shot him an incredulous look.

"We used to play outside all the time!"

"Yeah, when we were kids." A seed of panic was blooming in Matthew's stomach, though he fought to keep it under control, and the fork in his hand remained unaffected. "Things change."

Alfred was quiet for a time, during which their parents struck up conversation with one another, discussing how their sons had been as boys and foreign trade policies, and Alfred took the opportunity to speak quietly to Matthew. "Why are you wearing those gloves? It's summer, not to mention hot as sin in here."

Feeling uncomfortable, Matthew took a drink of water, telling himself that he was just imaging the ice within the glass growing. "I always forget to take them off. Sometimes I can't even tell I'm wearing them."

"But I never see you without them now." Alfred countered, bold now that their parents weren't paying them much attention. "Not that I ever see you at all."

Matthew clutched at his fork. "Alfred – "

"Can't you just… come out for a little while? It's not as fun pulling pranks on the servants by myself."

"You shouldn't be doing it at all."

"When did you get to be such a stick in the mud?"

"I'm not, it's just – "

Matthew froze mid-sentence, eyes glued to the fork in his hand that had somehow turned to solid ice without his notice. Alfred was too oblivious to see, staring hard at his older brother, who tossed the fork under the table before abruptly standing up. Their parents turned to look at him, worry in their eyes as Matthew struggled to find words to say. "I'm afraid I must retire to my room now." He choked out before turning on his heel and fleeing from the dining hall, pushing past the hovering servants and guards without touching them at all.

This palace may have been his home, but Matthew didn't feel at peace anywhere that wasn't his own bedroom. There, he could freeze over whatever he pleased and no one would see or care; but out here, there was so much to harm, too many things to destroy, and even if Alfred hadn't noticed the fork, Matthew couldn't risk his brother finding out about his powers and possibly getting hurt again.

Or even worse, hating Matthew for the curse the sixteen-year-old had been born with.

Relief flooded Matthew's being as he approached his bedroom door, his frantic running slowing down, but he was forced to stop as something snagged his wrist, nearly tugging off his glove in the process. "Matthew, wait!" Alfred was panting, blue eyes wide and intense and pleading as Matthew struggled to free himself. "I didn't mean to make you mad. I just – I don't know what to say to you anymore. Just stop shutting me out, okay? That's all I want. And since it's my birthday, you should give that to me."

"Let go of me!" Matthew wrenched his arm from his brother's grasp, and he'd have half a mind to be shocked by his sibling's strength if he weren't so terrified. "There are things you just don't understand, things you can't change, but that doesn't mean you're not important to me, or that I don't care about you, Al."

"Then what's the deal?" Alfred cried, and Matthew could see his parents approaching from down the hall, quickening their strides when they notice the confrontation. Matthew backed up, inching toward his door. "I woke up one day and you were just gone. I mean, you were technically still around, but barely. You say you care about me, but you act so distant and cold whenever we're together."

"Shut up." Matthew snapped, because he thought about it a lot, his power overshadowing everything he was and had once been and turning him as cold as the magic he wielded, a person unable to feel even an ounce of affection for the brother he loved so desperately. "You don't know a damn thing, not about me or anything else!"

Alfred blinked in obvious shock, his mouth falling open as he stared at his brother, apparently at a loss for words. Matthew took the opportunity to slip into his room before their parents reached them, slamming the door shut and locking it with finesse only achieved with practice.

The temperature in the room dropped as Matthew stood with his forehead pressed to the door, breathing through clenched teeth in an attempt to control himself. "Conceal it." He whispered, clenching his fists against the rapidly cooling wood. His father always told him to repeat that when Matthew felt himself slipping, though as years wore on, the desired affect was hard to come by. "Don't feel it. Don't let him see."

Matthew had been right when he said his brother didn't know anything. Couldn't he tell that it physically pained Matthew to have to be so brisk with him, that their loss of friendship affected him just as badly, if not more so? Alfred couldn't remember how it had been, how much it meant to Matthew to see the wonder and awe in his brother's eyes whenever he used his magic. Alfred was the one who'd made him love his curse, but then turned around and made Matthew despise it.

Alfred didn't remember the night everything went wrong, so of course he couldn't possibly understand why Matthew didn't open the door when he knocked anymore.

"Alfred, sweetheart?" His mother's voice reached him then, and he could imagine his parents standing close to Alfred, who was most likely still standing frozen in place. "What's the matter?"

There was a brief silence, then Matthew heard a small sniffle. He backed away from the door, horrified. "Matthew hates me."

"Your brother doesn't hate you, Al."

"Your father is right. Matthew loves you very much. There are just some things that he has to work out on his own. He'll come around eventually."

"I must have done something. He can't even be in the same room as me for more than ten minutes." Alfred said, sounding so desperate and lost that Matthew started to feel sick. "What did I do wrong?"

Snow was falling from the ceiling when Matthew turned around, and while it wasn't nearly as violent as some of his previous creations had been, there was still something quietly chaotic about it, and Matthew had to suppress the urge to escape from the room and into the arms of his family; but he couldn't, not until he learned to overcome his own magic.

As things stood, Matthew feared that time would never come.

"You trusted me to control it, Al. That's all."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: _Yeah, yeah, I know. This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I wanted to do something in celebration of sorts for the Frozen DVD coming out. Obviously, it came out the 18th, I was just super slow with this.

* * *

Alfred was maybe… five years old when he attended his first funeral. He didn't really remember much about it, only knew that the funeral had been the former Queen of Arendelle's – his grandmother's. She'd died peacefully in her sleep with no apparent complications, and when he and his brother were told, neither of them shed a single tear; Matthew because he thought it unbecoming of a prince to cry before others, and Alfred because he had no concept of death at such an age.

Truthfully, Alfred hadn't felt a single ounce of upset or grief throughout the entire process. His family did an excellent job of keeping any negative emotions hidden during the funeral and in the weeks leading up to it, so with his parents in apparent stability, Alfred himself was content.

It wasn't until the casket was being lowered into the ground that Alfred began to fidget, remembering that what his mother had said about Granny having fallen asleep inside the wooden box. If she were put in the ground, and the men with odd looks on their faces and long sticks continued to put dirt on her, how would she ever wake up?

Alfred did remember that slow building upset in his stomach, how he'd clutched tighter to his mother's black dress despite the fact that she'd told him not to cling. He'd wanted to speak, wail, scream, _anything_ to wake up his granny before she could no longer hear him, but then his older brother grabbed his hand. Mattie was so strong, even then, picking up Alfred's broken pieces as well as his own, and five-year-old Alfred had been consoled in that moment, even if no words were spoken between them. His brother smiled warmly in his direction, and everything was suddenly okay.

So, long story short, Alfred's first funeral hadn't been an especially memorable affair. Sure, the weeks afterward had been long and confusing, riddled with a strange mixture of all different kinds of weather throughout. Mattie would take Alfred out when he started asking where his grandmother was and play in the snow with him. Alfred had thought even nature was mourning the loss of his granny. The sky couldn't even think straight enough to remember that snow didn't belong in summer. Alfred still wasn't quite sure how that even happened. Everything about that year was just… odd.

But then, Alfred never expected that the second funeral he'd attend would take place nearly eleven years after the first, or that the guests of honor would be his parents, or even that there would be no bodies to bury.

He couldn't believe it, didn't understand. His parents went to sea all the time for business in foreign lands. The waters were always tame, welcoming, and Alfred never once considered that the seas he grew up watching from afar would take his parents from him.

They'd only been going to his cousin's wedding in Corona. They should've made it there and back in one piece; but they didn't. The King and Queen of Arendelle were lost at sea, leaving their two teenage sons… two _estranged _teenage sons, behind.

At the very least, Alfred thought the death of his parents would bring Matthew – a shut in since he was ten years old – out of his room; but he'd been wrong about that. Alfred cried for days after his parents died, unsure of what to do with himself now that the only two members of his family who still talked to him were gone.

The servants did what they could, cooked all his favorite meals and ensured that he never spent more than an hour by himself, but the raw feelings of loneliness and grief were almost too much for the sixteen-year-old to bear.

He didn't want to go to the funeral. He didn't want to hear anyone's condolences, their thoughts on the matter, or their inquiries about how he was fairing; but Alfred was a prince. He didn't have the luxury of a private grieving period, and on a basic, almost primal plane of his being, Alfred _wanted_ to go outside.

And he did. Alfred dressed himself and followed after his nursemaids, Angelique and Emma. He didn't make a sound as they hustled him into a carriage and carted him off to the burial grounds of the royal family. The young prince soaked in every sound, every smell, and when he saw the grieving faces of the villagers they passed, he soaked them in as well, because it had been so long since he interacted with people outside the palace walls.

Everything was too much, a vicious influx of sensory input that left Alfred overwhelmed and subdued. It worried his nursemaids to no end, and they fussed over him more than they normally would have until it was time for the funeral to begin and Alfred had to stand apart.

It wasn't until that moment, when all the fussing stopped and he was suddenly alone amongst the sea of faces with his back to the waters that had taken his parents from him, that Alfred realized he was alone; Matthew hadn't shown up.

Alfred had never considered the fact that his brother would continue to hide away even though their parents' funeral. In fact, the first thought Alfred had when he learned of the accident was that he'd finally have an excuse to see Matthew for the first time in years. Not even such a devastating loss had been able to convince the future King of Arendelle to face his younger brother. Somehow, it hurt far worse than the death of his parents had.

It was the first time in his life that Alfred had to stand on his own. No parents and no brother at his side. He was completely and utterly alone. There were no bodies to bury unlike when his grandmother died, but it didn't stop a fierce wave of panic and nausea from coursing through him. He felt as if he could pass out, and he noticed Angelique and Emma amongst the crowd lurching in their places, as if fighting off the urge to come to his rescue.

He watched them, if only briefly. With no Matthew to distract him, his nursemaids bore the brunt of Alfred's mischievous habits. When his parents were busy with running the kingdom, Angelique would play games with him in the halls, tiring him out so Emma could read stories to him before he fell asleep. They weren't so much nursemaids now that he was older. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure what to call them, only knew that they were present, and Matthew was not.

The part of Alfred still clinging to childhood ached for his brother's presence, wanted to cling to his hand the day he had when they buried their grandmother; but apparently, Matthew loathed him too much now to even consider breathing the same air, let alone hold Alfred's hand and coddle him like a child.

Alfred hadn't been reared for the kingship like Matthew had, but he was still a prince, and he knew how to act accordingly even if he didn't necessarily want to most of the time. So, mindful of Emma's and Angelique's gaze on him, Alfred had held his chin high and somehow managed to keep his tears at bay throughout the entire day.

It was entirely too exhausting, and by the time they returned to the palace, Alfred was almost glad to hear the gates closing soundly behind them. He shrugged Angelique and Emma off immediately, claiming that he needed space, and they allowed him that, though Alfred had a feeling Angelique would've tailed him if only Emma would let her.

They must have assumed he would walk around aimlessly for hours until he came crawling back to his room, but for once, Alfred actually had a set destination in mind. He took his time, walking through the darkened halls that had once made him feel safe. Now they just felt oppressing, like a cage. He used to draw on them, hated them enough to do so even if it made Emma sigh in disappointment and Angelique swear at the ceiling in French.

Alfred tugged at his sleeves, irritated with the scratchy material and desperately wishing for the loose-fitting comfort of his nightclothes, which he knew were probably laid out on his bed by now, just waiting for him. Alfred glanced up fleetingly – he honestly wasn't quite sure if he was going the right way, apprehension, exhaustion, and grief clouding his mind – but he honed in instantly on his brother's door, just to the left of him.

The designs on the painted wood were as familiar to Alfred as the ones on his own door. How often had he sat outside Matthew's room as a kid, just watching and waiting for his best friend to finally, _finally _make an appearance? Alfred sighed to himself, all too familiar with this overdone routine, and lifted a hand to knock on his brother's door. "Matthew?"

Complete silence. Alfred wasn't quite sure if he was expecting anything different, but he felt as if he deserved at least some sound. "I know you're in there." Usually Alfred would leave at this point, but not today, not after what he'd just been through. "And I know you can hear me."

Alfred could hear voices down the hall, but he knew no one would try to come down this way, not this late at night. The servants brought Matthew his meals everyday and left them outside the door, but other than that, there was no reason for anyone to venture to this part of the palace. He and his parents were the only ones who came consistently for various reasons.

"We had a funeral for Mom and Dad today." Alfred continued, hand still pressed against the door, almost wishing that he could knock the damn thing down and force Matthew to acknowledge him; but he could never do that, no matter how frustrated he felt with his brother most of the time. Matthew had his reasons, and whether Alfred wanted to admit it or not, he knew that he'd done something to make his brother upset. "People asked where you were. I told them you weren't feeling well, but… I don't think they believed me."

Alfred sniffed subconsciously, and any resolve he had to be upset with his brother evaporates when he realized that he was crying. "Everyone's telling me to be strong about this, you know? It's like, just 'cause I'm a prince I can't have human emotions or be upset about this in front of anybody. But Angie and Emma at least act like they understand. Even with their support, I'm still barely holding it together. I was thinking… if I have them, and I'm still struggling, how are you dealing with it?"

It was easier to say those things behind the safety of the door. Sometimes Alfred even forgot that there was a living, breathing person beyond it. He couldn't forget in that moment, however, felt closer to Matthew than he had in years, and it was strange. He'd had one-sided conversations numerous times before, but this time, it felt as if the things he was saying actually mattered.

"They were your parents, too." The tears just kept coming, everything he refused to express during the day bubbling to the surface, and he felt younger than he had in a long time. "You had every right to be there! If you thought you didn't, I mean. It's just us now that they're gone, Matthew. If anyone's going to help us through this, it's going to have to be each other."

After standing for most of the day, Alfred was tired of it, and he chose to sit on the ground in front of the door just as he did when he was younger, pressing his back to the chilled wood. He pulled his knees to his chest, suddenly terrified, because what was he going to do without his parents? He could curb the loneliness brought on by Matthew's physical disappearance by spending time with his mom and dad, but now that they were gone, Alfred had a feeling it was going to be significantly harder.

He wanted Matthew back. Desperately. He missed having a best friend, and while Angelique and Emma were as close as he was going to get, they were adults and his parents' hired help. They stayed by him because it was their job. It was everyone's job in this entire stupid palace to stay with Alfred and take care of him. No one was here of their own volition. No one truly cared. Not even his own brother loved him enough to unlock his door.

Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his knees as a shiver went up his spine. The air wafting out from beneath Matthew's door was freezing, and Alfred briefly wondered if his brother had opened his window, had watched the funeral even from afar. Alfred wanted to go to sleep desperately, but he felt if he got up and left now, that this would be the end, that he would never be able to convince himself to come back, to try again.

There was no point anyway. Matthew wouldn't budge. He'd always been stubborn if nothing else. Regardless, Alfred had to do something. A last ditch effort of sorts. He couldn't keep doing this anyway, sitting around like some lost child when he was sixteen years old; but Matthew must have felt at least some obligation to him, as Alfred's older brother… right?

It could be like when their grandmother died, when Matthew dragged Alfred out of bed, laughing about snowmen while Alfred whined that the sky wasn't even awake, not to mention summer. Matthew always managed to somehow pull off the impossible, and Alfred loved and adored him so much, didn't think there was a thing in the world his big brother couldn't do.

"Mattie… do you wanna build a snowman?"

There were a few moments of tense silence, everything hanging by a single thread, and even though Alfred knew even beforehand that he'd never get an answer, he stayed until the chilling breeze coming from beneath the door made it impossible for him to stay.


End file.
